


How to Leave the Love of Your Life (and How to Come Home Again)

by blackcoffeeandteardrops



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person, Pre-X-Files Revival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 09:36:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13761306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcoffeeandteardrops/pseuds/blackcoffeeandteardrops
Summary: Pre-Revival babble regarding Scully's thoughts about the break up. Leads into s10 and how they worked their way back to whatever it is they are now.





	How to Leave the Love of Your Life (and How to Come Home Again)

**Author's Note:**

> I realized recently that my stories tend to be dialogue heavy. While that's not a bad thing, I wanted to try and experiment a little. I don't write in second person often, as it can get a little bit clunky, but I think this works well enough. Thanks for reading!

Pack a bag.

Aside from leaving, packing will perhaps be the most important step. Timing will be important with this. Pack it as soon as you know there's no other option. Any delay will cause you to rethink things and possibly change your mind, and having your belongings already packed will make it a fraction easier to say goodbye.

Tell them.

This step will hurt. You’ll stand in front of him, tears clouding your vision, and tell him it's the right thing to do, all the while wondering if you're making the right choice. He’ll either raise his voice or shrug and say it's inevitable, and either way you'll turn away wishing things had been different.

Leave.

You will cry. Maybe not right away, maybe not for the first few days, but this fact is inevitable. As you back away from the home the two of you have shared, turn the music up or find a good podcast to listen to, and lose yourself in the miles that slowly begin to separate you. 

The urge to turn around will occur more than once. You’ll envision the look of surprise that would be etched on his face, imagine the words he’ll say, and you’ll want so badly to go back. Press your foot on the gas pedal and surge ahead instead.

Resist the urge to contact him.

In the days and weeks that follow your leaving you’ll be tempted to reach out to him, but try your best to resist. 

In the dark of night, you’ll whisper your fingertips across your lips, pretending it's his mouth on yours. You’ll slip your other hand under your waistband and you’ll close your eyes and bring yourself to the edge, and when his name leaves your lips it’ll feel like a prayer. You’ll go to sleep feeling sated. For a while, it’ll be enough.

Date.

This will be difficult. You’ll try on several outfits--the first too revealing, the second too professional--before settling on something practical. He’ll pull out your chair and he’ll call you beautiful, and you’ll feel flattered. Don't feel guilty. Embrace it.

Still, when he leans in to kiss you at the end of the night, you’ll turn just slightly so his lips land on the corner of your mouth instead. 

When he texts you the next morning to ask when he can see you again you’ll be tempted to politely decline, because it all seems so strange, this whole dating thing. You can say no if you want, maybe there will be opportunities along the road, but feel a small sense of pride either way. You're trying and while it's not much, it's a start.

Try something new.

Sure, going on a date just to prove you could is something new, but go a step further than that. 

Go to the book club the nice nurse who always seems to be in surgery assisting you has told you about. Be surprised when it's an actual book club and not just an excuse to hang around and gossip. Remind yourself that it's okay so have friends. They might call on a Friday night and ask to go out for drinks, and maybe you’ll say yes. Maybe you’ll apply some lipstick and dab some perfume behind your ears and you’ll convince yourself that this is okay. But if at some point you find yourself thinking the music is too loud and the drinks are too pricey, retreat to your apartment and know that at the very least, you tried.

Talk about it.

Your mother will ask, because of course she will, and at first you won't know what to say. She’ll insist that the two of you will work things out and that it will just take time, and for a second you’ll catch yourself wondering if she's right. 

Sure, you might have a good time apart from the relationship that has consumed your life for over twenty years, but there's an itch in the back of your mind that begs to be scratched. You deserve to be happy, you know this, but if you find yourself longing for the way things were, know that it's normal. 

The man you went out to dinner with will send you flowers at work and on the card he’ll call you Dana. While the nurses are cooing over them in the staff lounge you’ll duck into the bathroom and splash cold water on your face, because while it's a nice gesture it still feels wrong, and you think you might get sick. You might go out with him one more time out of pity or to test the waters, but you’ll send him a message shortly after explaining that whatever he's looking for you can't provide.

You’ll book an appointment with your therapist and you’ll spend the first few minutes explaining your urge to get back on track. It's been too long, and while the therapist aims for the proverbial elephant in the room, you’ll draw in a deep breath and pretend it doesn't feel like they're pressing on a bruise. Talking about the most important relationship in your life proves difficult, but it helps.

Spend time alone.

You tried meditation once, years ago, when your sister insisted it helped clear her mind like nothing else, but for you it doesn’t work. You lace on an old pair of tennis shoes instead and pound the pavement, running until your lungs ache and your pulse races. There’s something thrilling about pushing yourself to the brink and then pushing even farther that allows you to clear your head and think.

In the weeks leading up to your departure, you might as well have been alone, but this is different. When you open the door to your apartment, you know that no matter which room you walk into, you’ll be the only one there. It’s nice in a lonely sort of way. There’s no one else to clean up after or account for and there’s no one to put on a show in front of when you’ve had a bad day, but as you burrow into bed after a long day you’ll remember how nice it was to have someone to share that warmth with. You’ll pull your wedding ring from your bedside drawer and slip it on your finger, twirling it around a few times, and you’ll miss him.

Branch out.

Time, it’s said, heals all wounds. And maybe this one won’t be healed, but when you press the phone to your ear and listen to the phone ringing, you’ll find yourself hoping it’ll at least be a start.

Your therapist has said severing ties might be a good thing, and you’ll think for a while that they’re right. Maybe what you did by leaving was the right choice, but maybe reaching out and trying to fix things is a good choice, too. 

He’ll act suspicious when you call, so don’t be surprised. He’ll say that it’s been so long and that he’s missed your voice, and before you have a chance to stop yourself, you’ll let it slip that you’ve missed his, too. Still, he’ll ask what you want, and you’ll say how you just wanted to see how he’s been doing, but you both are old enough to know it’s more than that. Maybe it’ll be the wine that gives you an extra shot of courage, but you’ll down the last of what won’t be your first or final glass of the night, and you’ll tell him the story you heard once about how fate ties you together to the one you’re destined to be with. The line will go quiet for a few seconds, but then he’ll tell you he feels the figurative string tugging, and how he’s glad you haven’t cut it, at least not entirely. It’ll take everything you have not to grab your keys and drive straight home.

Take a chance.

When you get an opportunity to work together again, you’ll feel scared. You might consider saying no, especially in light of how easily the both of you have descended into darkness before. But the two of you are like a binary; you can’t have one without the other. 

It’s not exactly like you won’t be spending time together anyhow. The phone calls will become more frequent, and you’ll stay the night a time or two. He’s getting better and so are you, and not just in a manner of speaking.

Work will be different though. You’re not as young as you used to be, and neither is he, and so when he’ll suggest a day in the park you’ll leap at the chance. You’ll meet him on a cold gray Saturday morning, and the two of you will go running before sitting at a cafe and eating breakfast. He’ll reach across the table and grab your hand, and he’ll ask if you think you can do this. You’ll steal a few seconds by drinking your coffee, because you won’t be entirely sure if he means working together or being together, but you’ll want him to mean both.

You’d be a fool to think it would come easy, though. When he’ll take off after a suspect (without backup, no less), there’ll be fear in your gut. You’ll trace his last steps and you’ll keep calling despite the fact he won’t answer. When he’s finally found and you’ve had the chance to check him out, you’ll realize that this time is different. He’ll say sorry, which is something he never used to do. Taking your feelings into consideration won’t be an entirely new thing, but the fact that he acknowledges it before you do will be. 

Find a common language.

A night here and there will turn into a weekend, and then a week, and then suddenly more of your belongings will be at the house than at the apartment. You’ll get a notice saying your lease is up soon and you’ll consider renewing, but things between you will feel great, so what if you don’t? What if, instead of sticking with the status quo, you push the envelope a bit?

Work will be good, better than it ever was, and you’ll remember how fun it used to be. Going home at night will be different, too. In the past he’d be sitting in the same position that he was when you left that morning, but now he’ll walk through the door with you.

You’ll still have disagreements and you’ll still have pain. You’ll realize there’s a lot you never talked about, at least not really. Yelling and crying and actually hashing things out will feel foreign at first, but it’ll also be refreshing. Whether age or simply time will be to blame, you’ll appreciate things more, and so will he. 

The darkness will still remain, lurking in the periphery, but it’ll be different. Together, the two of you will move forward, walking jointly as ever towards the light.


End file.
